


I'm the Sick One

by Desparado



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desparado/pseuds/Desparado
Summary: You’re feeling very sorry for yourself as a run in with a crazy old lady wielding potions left you rather worse for wear. But it’s nothing a witcher with a smile can’t fix.Contains swearing.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Kudos: 45





	I'm the Sick One

“Wow I feel like shit.” You grumbled, trying to turn on your side but the pain in your left collarbone continued to ache with every movement. Hissing, you reluctantly returned to lying on your back. Looking up at the towering trees, you couldn’t help but get frustrated once again for allowing yourself to get attacked by that old woman. You were grateful, however, that you managed to dodge enough of the thrown bottles to not be completely saturated by poison, leaving you with sore muscles, a throbbing headache and a need to be cared for. Today was your lucky day.  
Logs clattered on the floor a short distance from you and you turned your head to watch Geralt feed the campfire before meeting your gaze. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked, walking over to you and kneeling by your side.  
“Fucking fantastic!” You replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm, which made Geralt chuckle. He placed his hand on your cold forehead then checked your shoulder wound as his face scrunched up. Without a word, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small clear vial with yellow-brown liquid. “Oh no, I’m not drinking that shit again Geralt.” You protested, trying to prop yourself up but with no success. He stared at you, one eyebrow cocked up, before pulling the cork and pressing the bottle to your bottom lip. “Drink.” He ordered. Knowing you had no choice, you squeezed your eyes shut and opened your mouth, the slightly warm, very bitter liquid coated your tongue and it took every effort to swallow it rather than spit it out. Then came the metallic aftertaste which you hated. Groaning, you looked at Geralt and saw him holding a waterskin ready. You nodded and let him pour the cool refreshing water into your mouth, relieved when it helped remove the awful taste. “I hate that stuff so much.” You muttered eventually as Geralt put the empty vial and waterskin away. “I know, but it’s helping you get better. So stop moaning and just let it work.” He scolded, smiling slightly as you opened your mouth wide in dramatic shock.  
“I’m the sick one here, Witcher! And you need to work on your bedside manner!” You retorted loudly before erupting into a coughing fit. Every cough shook your aching muscles and caused more pain. Strong hands helped you sit up and held you close while you coughed; Geralt pressed a kiss to your temple as he rubbed your back, wishing he could do more. As the coughing subsided, you took a deep breath and leaned against him, enjoying the affection you were getting. “Feeling better?” He asked as his hand stilled against your back.   
You whined at the lack of touch, “No, in fact I’m feeling worse than ever- and if you stop touching me, I think I might die!” Geralt laughed at your claims, his chest vibrating which rocked you in turn. “Always so dramatic.” He teased, before picking you up bridal style. “You’re worse than Jaskier.”  
“Well that’s just rude- take that back right now!” You demanded as you clung to his shirt. He walked over towards the fire and then carefully sat down on a tree stump, sitting you on his lap. When he didn’t reply, you lightly hit his arm, “Take it back!”  
“Or what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you, his teeth showing through a small smile. You squinted at him, thinking of an appropriate response. “Or I’ll never play with your hair again.” He considered your ‘threat’ carefully, knowing full well that you’d struggle with that far more than he would, yet he knew how stubborn you could be. “Fine, I take it back, you’re not as dramatic as Jaskier.”  
“Thank you.” You nodded before offering him a big smile. The heat of the fire was slowly seeping into your muscles and helping them relax as you gazed into Geralt’s eyes; their amber swirls like pools of honey you either drank up or drowned yourself in. And when his eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled… well that just melted your heart and turned you into a gooey mess. “Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?” You asked, voice low as you were entranced. He chuckled slightly, “Only everyday my love.” He nuzzled your nose, bringing you out of your trance as he then tilted his head to kiss you. It was soft, almost lazy, your lips slowly pressed against his, their warmth flowing through you like a cure for all ailments. As you deepened the kiss, you went to wrap your arms around him, but flinched as the pain in your collarbone struck again, groaning at the ache. “Oh my poor sweet y/n, looks like we’ll have to avoid kissing whilst you’re healing-”  
“Shut up- I’d rather die than lose your kisses.” You declared; eyes focused on his lips as they curved into a smile. As you flicked your gaze between his eyes and lips, silently begging him for more, he took note of your intentions, “Now now, I want you to get better quicker and if that means limiting contact then-”  
“I’m the sick one here and I think I get to decide what I need.” You insisted, placing your hand on his cheek to bring him even closer to you, licking your lips in anticipation. “You are a demanding patient, aren’t you?” He mocked, bringing his lips so close to yours but not close enough to kiss. “Geralt- you have no idea.” You whispered, before you fought against the pain to grab a fistful of his hair and pull him in for another kiss.


End file.
